


Abbie

by Sagittae



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Speculation, Theory Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagittae/pseuds/Sagittae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her face is the last thing he sees..." Potential spoilers for 2.18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abbie

**Author's Note:**

> Short speculation fic for the season 2 finale :) Sorry for any errors! I wrote this up on my phone :/ Hope you enjoy!

Ever since he met Miss Mills, Ichabod's day had gotten more and more hectic with each passing second. Her presence was like a calm storm, washing over him entirely, completely. And after being with her for a day, he realized that despite her size, she was a spitfire and a force to be reckoned with. He supposed most of her fiery attitude (and strange clothing) came from her time -- the twenty-first century to be more precise. The moment he met her, she captivated his attention completely. Though, she had brought up the Hessian group, so that was reason enough to be willing to listen to what she had to say.

However, then she began to speak about Katrina and his role -- _their_ roles -- as God's Witnesses. Miss Mills went on about how his wife was truly a witch and had come back from the twenty-first century ("Don't ask me how she got there, too," Abigail had said dismissively. "It's a _long_ story.") and was now going to try and make an attempt on his life. 

Which she did.

He had met not only the Hessian Miss Mills had warned him about (to whom he was later told, was his old friend, Abraham Van Brunt, also known as the Horseman of Death) but his beloved wife. She approached him during battle while muskets were fired and dirt and gravel sprung up from the ground. He had never seen such a menacing look upon her features as her eyes glowed a milky, white color and her hands vibrated with blue energy. 

Luckily for him, Abigail had managed to reach her ancestor of his time, Grace Dixon, the house maiden of Fredrick's Manor. She, too, was a witch, and her powers matched Katrina's equally. The only difference was that Grace had her coven at hand, whereas his wife did not. Grace called upon two of her allies to help send Katrina to Purgatory, an eternal middle ground between Heaven and Hell.

And much had happened between that time. He was informed by Miss Mills that it was crucial that he be put to sleep for two hundred years, otherwise detrimental changes would be made to her time, including the potential of their very meeting. Even General Washington himself had let him know this. He needed to wake with the Horseman of Death. That was the only way things could be.

"Come, Captain, it is best if we perform the ritual as soon as we can to prevent too many changes," Grace's words had snapped him out of his thoughts. Ichabod glanced up to find both Miss Dixon and Miss Mills staring at him, the former held a small, kind smile on her lips while the latter carried a look of sympathy. And for a moment, it seemed familiar.

Ichabod cleared his throat and nodded briskly. "Of course, I am ready when you are prepared." His words were quiet, for he lost much on that day, even though he knew most of what occurred was for the best. "However, I was wondering if I could have one last word with Miss Mills?"

The young woman stared at him, obviously surprised at first, but then she spoke clearly, "Yeah, okay. Would that be all right, Grace?" 

Grace looked between the two of them with her hands folded in front of her. "As long as you are careful with what you say, I see no harm in it."

Miss Dixon walked to the corner of the cavern, writing a few things down in a journal she had opened before her. Abigail walked up to him and sighed, "What's up? Uh, I mean -- What did you need to talk about?" 

And at first he wasn't sure. Why had he wanted to speak to her in private? He supposed it would have made no difference had Grace been there, but together, with just the two of them, it felt better; it felt _right_. "I just wanted to thank you for all you have done. I have truly never met a woman quite like you, Miss Mills."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," Abbie murmured before smiling slightly. "But it's no problem, Crane. We've done this song and dance before, just a bit different. And we're even since you helped me get out of jail and all." She stuffed her hands into her pocket.

"'Even'?" Crane tasted the word curiously. "What exactly does that mean in this context?" Miss Mills seemed to say a numerous amount of expressions and metaphors he did not understand. Though, he was only slightly surprised when her initial response was a smooth bout of laughter.

(He had gotten used to the sound by now.)

She grinned, "It means we're square. Equal. We're good. You don't owe me anything... For now, at least." 

He pressed his lips together, "Hm, I see." He didn't, but continued anyway. He could have spent hours conversing with Abbie, but in his peripheral view he could see Grace staring at him pointedly. "Well, I suppose this is farewell for now, Miss Mills."

Her wide smirk shrunk to a tiny smile and her voice became quieter as she spoke, "Yeah..." Abbie looked away for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to meet his. "Listen, Crane, I'm not completely sure how much you're gonna remember when you wake up, but once you get there just -- just be patient with me, all right? The future me can be a real stubborn ass at times. It might take a while for me to get the picture."

"Why would your posterior be stubborn? And what picture are you speaking of?"

"Expressions, Crane."

"Of course." He really did not understand.

But Abbie rubbed her nose and went on, "Look, what I'm trying to get at is... I was a real hardass back then, so... Don't give up on me, all right?"

Ichabod noticed the spark of desperation and hope fluttering in her eyes. So he answered the only way he could, "I shall give you the same patience as you have offered me, no matter how much of a 'hard ass' you are. Do not worry." He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," Abbie returned the gesture.

Grace walked over and her eyes shifted over them both. "It is time." 

Ichabod nodded before stepping towards Grace and grabbing hold of the hand she had stretched out towards him. A small jolt of energy rushed from his fingertips to his core as they made contact. She started to lead him away, to a tiny cot against the side of the room. He was ordered to lie down and he obeyed quietly, allowing his gaze to wander until they found Miss Mills' once again. Her eyes were teary as she stared at him, the corner of her lips pulled up tightly.

He felt Grace's palms against his forehead and his chest as she began to whisper an incantation under her breath. Ichabod could feel his last concious breaths being drawn out of him, but then he had a sudden impulse. Quickly, he called out towards the ceiling, "Miss Mills?"

He heard shifting to his left. "Yes?"

The force behind his words drifted away as his pace of his heartbeat became sluggish, "I look forward to seeing you again."

A short laugh floated towards his ears and he couldn't help but turn to face her. A tear had escaped from her eye and now left a wet trail down her uplifted cheek as she smiled. He found it odd that he wanted nothing more than to stand up and wipe the stray droplet away. "I'll see you soon, Crane."

And as darkness creeped in from the sides of his vision, her face is the last thing he sees.

**\---- 2014 ----**

He is taken to a law enforcement office for some reason.

Ichabod isn't quite sure what he's done wrong, but they seem to think he is guilty for some crime. Thus, he is shackled and put behind bars, forced to sit and watch in confusion as other agents of the law pass by occasionally and send him strange looks. 

And it angered him. He did not fight in war to be gawked at by random passer-byers. 

Ichabod was about to complain loudly when a pair, a man and a woman, walked into the room. The man is of Asian descent and stands taller than the woman to his left. He seems to be asking her some questions, ones that Ichabod should probably listen to as well, for they may contain information as to why he is locked up, however, all he can do is focus on her.

Her brown locks are tied back, much different then the wild waves of curls he had seen her with before, but still just as lovely. She is wearing a uniform, one that matches the man's, and yet again, she has on trousers. Ichabod watches as her gaze flicks to him passively and the moment their eyes meet, he knows it's her.

He knows it's --.

" _Abbie_."


End file.
